A Doorstep Epiphany
by Comfy Chair
Summary: Callie knew she would return - get pulled back by the invisible cord connecting her to Jude. She missed her brother to the point of infinity. She knew she would return. So, why then, did she leave in the first place?
1. Chapter 1

**Enjoy and please review. Regards CC.**

**A Doorstep Epiphany**

Callie knew she would return - get pulled back by the invisible cord connecting her to Jude. She missed her brother to the point of infinity and could no longer cope with being separated from him.

She knew she would return eventually. And here she was, standing on the veranda trying to conjure the courage to knock on the front door.

Which beggared the question, why did she leave in the first place?

She had found living with the Fosters an outrageous experience. Her first week had been like landing on the Moon – everything from the tangible love between Stef and Lena and the deep down devotion of the siblings towards each other, to the home-cooked meals. Even the house rules were reasoned and fair.

They touched all the time, like bees greeting each other, where one had returned from a nectar hunt in strange and dangerous territory. They communicated "I'm here, you're here, we've known each other all our lives, we grew up together, we belong together".

The Fosters stood clear and unique in her world, where much was synthetic and dishonest and drab. They rearranged her molecules. Who were these magical unicorn people?

Stef was a shining light. She had brought Callie the dawn after the endless night Liam had shrouded her in. Callie didn't want to return to those times when she would find herself at the end of a night, approaching dawn, with nothing but sadness and despair on her mind. Stef fulfilled the need she had to believe that someone was in control, where previously she had thought the opposite existed, that everyone lived in a howling void of chaos. Stef signalled everything and its opposite: chastity and sexy; maternal and remote. She had the wonderful habit of looking vaguely puzzled at everything she said and smiling at her confusion.

Being with Stef and Lena was like being in group session with trained therapists, where she was given the chance to say the things she didn't normally say to anyone, and to tell them the stories she sometimes didn't even tell herself. It was like exposure and it was an epic challenge – heartbreaking, and hilarious and touching. It was if doors had opened inside of her and there were corridors and they lead to places she'd never been. And inside those places were ancient feelings and memories patiently waiting to be acknowledged.

One time in Stef's company, shortly after Liam's trial, she had blurted out "Fuck!" when she had been asked for the umpteenth time that day if she was OK. She had been about to intone she was absolutely fine, thank you. It had been her go-to response so many times it had made her sick. This time the words wouldn't come. The expletive had been so much better – gloriously cathartic like being splashed with cool water on a hot day. Stef did not admonish Callie for her outburst. It was though she had expected it or, goodness, had been egging her on to elicit from her the emotional release she obviously had needed.

It suddenly occurred to Callie to think whether Jude needed the same release. Should she provide the sounding board to enable **him** to say "fuck" out loud? Or had Stef or Lena already done the job for her in her absence. That thought brought on a wave of guilt that made her want to cry out loud in shame and sorrow, made worse by the relief she also felt that she wouldn't have to perform the service herself. Fuck indeed.

Why did she leave?

In the three weeks since she had left she had tried to make a list of reasons why. It was a short list, which disturbed her. The shortage of reasons meant she must have acted on impulse, which she really didn't want to admit. It didn't occur to her to think that, having to compile a list in the first place, was revealing in itself. No, what **did** occur to her, was that each item was of dubious merit and accuracy.

The mental list (at least she hadn't written it out!) was topped by the wonderful horror that Brandon loved her, with an addendum in brackets stating she did not love him in return. This had clearly been inaccurate...at the time of leaving since, if it were true, she needn't have run away. Second on the list was her love for Wyatt...at the time of leaving.

At the time of leaving she had been in love with both of the teenage boys. Modern convention stated you could not date two people at the same time. This had been deeply annoying. Certainly, it would be absurd to take them both on a date together – although the concept was quite appealing, but surely alternating wasn't that bad. Of course two thirds of those involved would object and demand a choice be made.

Surely they could all get along. They didn't have to act like characters from a CW show. Callie lapped up CW and ABC Family shows like all her generation, with their one girl with two love interests vying for her affection with barely concealed malice – teen love triangle tiffs made for hugely addictive viewing and she was as hooked as the next junky, but in reality it would be a drag. She would much rather she and her other two corners sit together in Starbucks with their diaries and come to an arrangement.

If her hand had not been forced by Brandon, Callie felt sure she would not have been able to choose. But, choosing Brandon would have jeopardised Jude's entry visa to their new-found Paradise. Therefore, she chose Wyatt.

The irony that Jude was the reason she had left and now the reason she was standing at the front door was not lost on her.

She would sacrifice the relationship she had built up with Wyatt over the last three weeks so as to be with her brother. She would bear the unbearable tension between her and Brandon to be able to hold Jude again.

The mental list of reasons for leaving was based on what she had felt at the time of leaving – the love for two boys. Three weeks later she now realised she had been more in love with the concept of being in love, like the infatuation you have with the latest pop idol. The difference had been that Brandon and Wyatt were flesh and blood, rather than images on posters or a Facebook screen; their words had been sincere and gloriously random, rather than 140 words carefully structured to illicit a emotional response.

But, Callie no longer felt she loved them. She was inordinately fond of them – fancied them to a disturbing degree, but she did not love them. Certainly not enough to give reason to running away from the only home she had ever wanted to stay in; from the only people she had ever wanted to call her parents since her mother had died – Stef in particular made her want to thank a deity she did not believe in; from a brace of siblings who made her laugh and want to care for rather than compete against for favours and attention; from her brother.

What on earth had she been thinking?!

She felt confident she wasn't sacrificing her 'One True Love (TM)'. Neither boy was the epic superhero who was going to solve everything and imbue every facet of her life with meaning, for ever. She was quite relieved, in fact, at this revelation. They could still both be one of The Ones. To her every lover should be The One. For an hour. A weekend. For summer. Love should not be based on endurance, but rather intensity. If the love failed you just had to get up, brush your teeth and have another go.

Much as first love is wonderful, or supposed to be, she dreaded the thought that Brandon and/or Wyatt would be her only loves. They weren't that great! She was pretty sure Brandon's puppy-dog eyes and 90's New Man sincerity (she had read of such in a waiting room magazine) would drive her insane eventually – criminally so. And Wyatt's constant playing with his hair was enough to make her resort to an act of midnight amateur hairdressing – he spent longer in the bathroom in the morning than she did!

There were thousands of people to lust after, to fantasise about. All of whom, she knew, would be impossible to get along with. Still, she wanted them all. And then there's space, other planets, galaxies; an infinity of unknowing.

When she fell truly in love she wanted to know enough of...everything to be able to know for sure he was the One. What she really meant was...she wanted to practice first. She blushed profusely and was oh so glad Wyatt was still in the car behind her. Their 'practice' sessions during the last three weeks had been wonderful – joyously amateur and exploratory; two pioneers discovering new frontiers. She longed to show Brandon the New World. She blushed again and smiled widely.

She had contemplated each direction of escape from the Foster's house. The beach had been her initial favourite. But, despite her love for the sea's edge, and the sense of freedom it induced, it was false, an illusion. It was a wall against escape; run in its direction and you had to stop and turn eventually and face what you were running from. Only a featureless highway could truly offer something over the horizon, even if it was more highway – seemingly endless until the next town appeared over the crest of a hill. So she had taken up Wyatt's offer to hitch with him. She felt guilty. He already thought he was second choice behind Brandon. Did he also suspect he was third behind the beach?

She and Wyatt hadn't set out to consummate their obvious attraction to each other. At the start of their 'adventure' they had remained remarkably chaste, if admittedly prone to teasing each other – a form of intentional torture as though they were both saying to each other "You know the effect you are having on me. You are doing it on purpose. Therefore, I will tease and torture you right up to the line of respectability until you scream with sexual frustration."

The act lasted an admirable eight days until Callie emerged from the motel bedroom and woke Wyatt, who had been taking his turn on the couch. He had taken full control of the large sofa and was using it to its full potential – wriggling, stretching, laid out like a patient in analysis. "There's a monster under my bed," she had said. "Can you read me a story?" Sitting on the side of her bed the beautiful fool actually started to tell her a tale – about a princess running away with her prince, before she placed two fingers on his lips to silent him then replaced them with her own lips. While her days continued to be tinged with haunting melancholy for the brother she has left behind, the nights became oases of seductive warmth. She got Wyatt to tell his story at a later date as it had sounded quite interesting.

However, in place of clumsy fumblings she now wanted a seduction scene each time, even though both parties accepted they would end up in bed together. She wanted a partner to slowly take off her clothes rather than have to disrobe herself. She'd read that in a magazine too, but it sounded so wonderful that she felt goosebumps just thinking of it. Her face began to ache from the smile she couldn't release.

Goodness, she couldn't knock on the door smiling like that!

Callie had started to see herself with a 360 degree view; the successes, mistakes, the patterns, the bad bits co-existing with the other shiny and clear bits. Now she had learnt to cry more easily, shout more easily, and she was probably only just beginning.

"Will you knock on the door already!" Wyatt shouted from behind; his head craned so as to look at Callie from inside the car. "You've been standing there for ages."

"Have not."

"Have too. Godot walked past a few minutes ago."

"You're such a nerd. I don't know what I saw in you," she teased.

"Good grief, Charlie Brown, knock on the frigging door."

Callie stuck out her tongue, then resumed her position on the veranda.

She realised she was enjoying herself. She was waking up like a tiger after a 10-year nap. She was flying. She felt like a living coming-of-age tale, where the eventual arrival occurs in a final leap, preceded by agonising steps – two forward, one back. Her leap forward culminating in an epiphany on a doorstep.

Callie knocked on the door. It opened to reveal Stef. A rush of warm air from inside buffeted the prodigal daughter. For five long seconds – count them, nothing was exchanged. Then Stef smiled, stepped back and to the side and allowed Callie to enter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Please find part 2. I initially sent this on Saturday, but then withdrew it due to the website problems. Apologies for the delay. I had originally intended this to be a one-shot, but your wonderful reviews (thank you) spurred me on.**

**Enjoy and please review. Regards CC.**

2

They tell me I'm too young to understand.

They say I'm caught up in a dream.

Well life will pass me by if I

don't open up my eyes.

Well that's fine by me

(Avicci)

Stef stepped back and to the side and allowed Callie to enter, which she did with pride-damaging haste - the five-second locking of blank faces at the open front door had impacted on her resolve some what. However, she still had enough of her earlier positive attitude to her new life to keep from embarrassing herself.

"I have a pot of coffee on," Stef said as if welcoming a friend for a morning chat. "Come through and we can chat," she added, hammering home the image. The older woman walked ahead and entered the kitchen before Callie was able to take her coat off. Should she take it off, she wondered.

Coffee was for adults. For equals. For two people to discuss grown-up...stuff. Right now Callie yearned for a Coke.

She recognised the tone of Stef's voice from other adults she had faced. It was one of several they adopted for different occasions. There was Anger. There was Disapproval and its cousin, Disappointment and the black sheep of the family, Disinterest. And then there was that tone which indicated they were not bothered; that your actions had not affected, upset or annoyed them; it declared 'we will carry on where we left off'. Worse, it meant they had been carrying on as normal without you there.

Most people were Jacks-of-all-tones. Stef was master of them all, especially the last one.

If Stef said she wasn't angry, just disappointed, Callie would break something. Or, perhaps less petulantly, she would leave again. Or, perhaps not – been there, done that. If Stef had to emote, Callie wanted it to be anger. It would be vaguely heartbreaking if she were just disappointed.

Out of interest – an insane desire to know in fact, Callie wondered if anything upset Stef, made her angry and lose the calmness-under-presure she exhibited. What would breach her wall and cause her to charge forth, sword in hand and battle-cry sounding? Callie found herself actually creating mental scenarios and wildly creative causes. It felt like it might be fun.

She was pregnant. No, that would prompt too many questions and require some pre-planning. For example, she would have to secure Wyatt's co-operation in the charade, unless she kept him in the dark to add his surprise to the general enjoyment. Of course, Stef would immediately think of Brandon. The whole game could backfire horribly and become a hideous tangled web.

She had become a Scientologist. That would worry her, certainly, but not anger. The two moms respected all their children's beliefs, including Callie's already-declared non-belief. She didn't think she could show enough devotion to carry it off – and the reading requirement alone would make it less than enjoyable.

She had put her name down to become a Young Republican. Callie let out a short, quick blast of laughter before clasping her hand over her mouth. She filed that under 'too cruel' and followed Stef into the kitchen. She then looked behind her at the base of the stairs.

"Jude slept over with a friend last night," Stef said reading Callie's mind. "So did Brandon and the twins. Lena is on Saturday morning detention duty."

So it was just her and Stef, Callie thought. Perhaps it was for the best, although she sorely wanted to see Jude. A large part of her also wished she could get all the reconciliations over with in one go rather than piecemeal, one person at a time.

"Are you OK?" Stef asked, her back to Callie as she poured two cups of coffee.

"Yes, thank you. I was with Wyatt all the time I was away."

"I know."

OK, thought Callie. "We stayed at a motel."

"I know." Stef stretched over the large kitchen table and handed Callie one of the cups. "We found you after a couple of days."

Callie found herself solidified, cup in hand, eyes wide and unblinking and levelled at the woman in front of her. Stef matched her stare, but with no give-away indication of what tone she would adopt when the duel ended. Callie caved first of course. It had been no competition really. She looked down and to her right – the supposed non-verbal indication of guilt. Then she looked up again and desperately sought for a glimpse of what Stef was thinking, but found nothing.

"Mike traced you by Wyatt's car number plate," Stef added.

"Then, why didn't you..."

"You both seemed well and contented. We figured we'd let you return in your own good time, although we did set a four-week limit. Lena said any longer would cause questions to be asked by the school governors."

Callie rubbed her eyes, then her brow, then dragged her hand through her hair from front to back. She looked away from Stef's calm gaze and tried to collect her thoughts into some semblance of order. Stef's calmness was freaking her out. It wasn't a smug-calmness or a calm-before-a-storm. Both options would have actually been preferable. Callie could lash out in anger at the former or stand ready for the latter. However, she couldn't react to the unreadable. "How did you know I would return?" She asked weakly and knew it.

Stef tilted her head and gave Callie a _'seriously?'_ expression which made her feel stupid.

"Brandon loves me," she blurted out.

"I know."

"I don't love him."

"I know."

Callie let out a scream of exasperation. "You keep saying that! Are we all so easy to read?"

"I'm a parent," Stef offered as explanation. "The twins are like open pop-up books and Brandon wears his heart on every sleeve."

"And me?" Callie had felt momentarily upset that Stef had only mentioned her original three children, but immediately discarded any thought that she wasn't loved as childish – Stef loved **all **her children.

"Actually, you're a closed book mostly," Stef said. "But Jude's different. He wasn't upset when you left. We knew you'd be back because **he **knew." Callie smiled at the thought of her strong, brave all-knowing brother. "Mind, you," Stef added, "he was angry as hell."

Callie's expression changed and this time Stef did show an emotion, which the younger woman read to be satisfaction; Jude would be the method of punishment.

xxxxxxx

Callie laid back on Jude's bed. She had a broad grin on her face. Not brought on by feeling triumphant – there was nothing to feel triumphant about. She felt too uneasy, guilty...cripplingly nervous. Not brought on by relief either, even if she was overwhelmed by that particular emotion. No, it was a continuation of her life-is-actually-not-all-that-bad attitude from earlier.

Stef's revelation that she and Lena had known all along where she had been the last three weeks prodded her thoughts relentlessly. At the time it had felt like being two fugitives on the run and hiding; a less morally-corrupt Bonny and Clyde. To discover that Stef and Lena had known where they were most of the time was a bit deflating. It dashed her thoughts of being an adult onto the rocks of absurdity, which was quite right of course – she **was** still a child. And as much as she wanted to feel angry, she couldn't help feeling admiration for the two women. They had been crafty and manipulative, patient and understanding while, at the same time, had risked a lot by not immediately reporting her absence – across a state line, no less.

What wonderful people they were! Her two moms.

Over the preceding months they had helped her connect to a part of herself she thought she would never experience again – the ability to love herself and to love somebody else. It had been a long time; her own Dark Ages.

She hadn't always been like that – negative and defeatist..

Unlike the other residents of the children's home – her competitors in life, she used to flourish and thrive amid trying times. She used to smile when she greeted people and at the end of every sentence. At the time it must have been difficult for others to judge whether she thought life was all good or if it was her default expression. Whatever. Not for her the frown or melancholy focus into the distance with sad-slow music playing as a soundtrack. Nor the hunched weighed-down look of others of her generation, who reacted instantly and negatively, as though every knock-back or frustration was the end of the world, and every adult was 'so unfair'.

In fact, Callie had considered most adults to be quite reasonable actually. After all, being inflicted with arrested development and foisted with responsibilities at the same time must have sucked. And having to pay taxes.

However, she had also found out very early in life that it was fun to break or bend every rule in the numerous books adults had. Perhaps because, being in the system, there had been so many to break. She had wanted the freedom she supposed every regular kid had, and had indulged accordingly; swimming naked at night in the sea, things like that. She had been anti-establishment, anti-authority or, at least, anti-mindless authority. It probably explained her atheism.

As much as she respected adults in general, she had often had problems with people in authority who showed little or no experience of their role and responsibility. She had hated risk-averse junkies. She recognised the unpredictability of life was its greatest danger, but chose to back her own judgement and respect her environment and not take instinct out of the process.

Life was about risk.

All that changed with Liam.

Her world-view was worth jack-shit after that. There had been no fucking Blurred Lines that day!

She had started a new calendar the day Liam entered her life – BC/ AD replaced by pre Liam, post Liam.

One late-night sojourn on the beach, post Liam, she had screamed into the night – howled with fear and anguish. She had even contemplated entering the sea and swimming to the horizon. Only Jude had anchored her. But even he had not prevented her from becoming a robot, going through a set program written by others; a zombie.

Until the day Lena picked her up from Juvie and introduced her to a life she had not realised existed – the Fosters were one continuous group hug;

Until two new boys treated her like porcelain – not because she was fragile, but because she was beautiful;

Until her epiphany on a doorstep.

Jude had saved her life. The Fosters had made it worth living again.

Her new life was good, dammit. She looked forward to resuming her rule-challenging. Perhaps she would invite someone along the next time she skinny-dipped.

She didn't hear the front door close or Jude climb the stairs.

To be continued.


	3. Chapter 3

3

Won't you kiss me

on that midnight street,

sweep me off my feet,

singing

'ain't this life so sweet'

(David Gray)

"Don't do that again," Jude said from the doorway by way of announcing himself. He could have been admonishing her for staying out too late, such was the economy of his words.

Callie stood up off his bed and bridged the gap between them. She lowered herself to her knees and hugged her brother tight. Almost, but not quite, immediately she felt him push her away. He walked to the far end of the room and turned round.

"Don't run away again," he repeated. It was a grown-up command, not a plea. "I'm not an infant who forgets stuff after enough time has elapsed – the horrors of a former home, former foster carers...the abuse inflicted upon a sister when she tried to protect him." Callie flinched. "Did you expect me to forget you? Did you expect me to sit back and feel lucky because I had gained three new siblings for the price of an old one?"

"Stop it!" Callie cried. "You're 12, not 20."

"If I'm a child, then don't leave me again." This time he sounded his age. It broke Callie's heart – the hurt and bewilderment and disbelief, but it was infinitely preferable to missing out on years of watching Jude mature from child to adult naturally. "I didn't mean to make you leave," he threw into the space between them.

"Jude..." Callie yearned to pull him to her again. Every fibre of her being cried out to her. But she didn't know if he wanted that or not. It was the first time she had ever doubted her intuition concerning her brother and she felt cold with terror that she had permanently damaged the link between them. "You didn't make me leave. I thought my feelings for Brandon were more than they were. I thought my leaving would make me think differently." It was a lie, she knew. She **had **left because of Jude; to ensure his future with the Fosters was not jeopardised.

But she had come back when she came to her senses and remembered that she and Jude were partners in their lives, and everyone else was a means to ensure they survived and flourished. It had ever been thus.

Callie silently gasped and went wide eyed when Jude ran to her and threw himself into her arms.

She had nothing of her mother's – nothing to touch or look at, except the younger brother she had gifted her with. Nothing more than that and she wanted nothing more. There was no need to touch something her mother had touched when she could still feel her hand on hers, hear her words of comfort in her head as she laid down each night. And to have her brother close by; watch him grow up and flourish.

But, then, Callie didn't need possessions of any kind really: ipods, xboxes smartphones etc. Joy was not in things, but in people; conversation; company and, newly discovered, in cuddling and touching. She dragged her conscious back and blushed – she was supposed to be thinking about her brother!

"I remember I used to think mom wouldn't have... left us if I hadn't been there to hear the news," Jude said. Callie sympathised. She had gone through a similar blame process herself. "If you couldn't find me to tell me," he continued, "I thought she could still be alive until told otherwise."

The confession dragged back the memory of the worst day of her life. Not her mother's death, but having to tell Jude. She had insisted to the social worker that she be the one to tell him, and the bastard agreed without hesitation. She didn't even ask her if she was sure she wanted to do it, instead grasping at the opportunity to hand over the responsibility to a young girl.

"What did you both do all the time you were gone?" Jude asked suddenly. "And remember I'm 12 not 20; I don't need all the details."

Callie laughed and blushed.

The second week had been the best. She had gotten used to not having her brother around – a dull ache instead of a shooting pain, and the sense of adventure set in. A fly on the wall would have sworn Callie and Wyatt had been force-fed with Sunny Delight concentrate and set free to indulge their young-adult fancies, driven berserk by E numbers and the lack of adult supervision. It was brilliant.

Of course, they had felt themselves mature, in no way childish or over-excited. The mature did not dance around in their pyjamas when the alarm clock rang. There were no photos. It did not happen.

She would push open the door of the motel room each morning. There had been a glorious view and smell of the sea. And the Sun had always shone. It had felt like being drenched in light as if fired from a water cannon. Like standing face to face with Van Gogh's Sunflowers.

One evening the two of them had sat on the beach until late. She had worn a dress with a neck line so low it had nowhere left to go and by the end of the night had drunk so much she had to carry her shoes to prevent her from tripping. Another day they had spent two hours in a coffee shop drinking espressos. That night they had bounced with caffeine. Another afternoon they had sat on a park bench drinking an illicit bottle of wine with crackers and cheese. It had felt like a movie.

However, they had both known they were living a dream. Modern fairy-tale characters required money and they were running out. Also, beyond their blinkers they couldn't help discerning the real world around them. Austerity and life's responsibilities were more prevalent in the eyes of those they passed, and the views through the windows of bars and diners more often evoked Edward Hopper than How I Met Your Mother. Glacial small-screen dramas rather than romcoms.

Still, they always had their own bubble of unreality to shield them.

They hadn't been goofy-happy. There had been a sense of jeopardy, but it was such that they never lost sleep. They went to a thoughtful place occasionally, but it was mostly about the adventure.

"I'm surprised you came back," Jude said when Callie had finished. "It all sounds so great."

"Silly," Callie said pulling Jude to her, squeezing him and tousling his hair.

They sat silently, bodies touching, for several minutes.

"Are you scared?" Callie asked her brother without warning. "Scared of losing all this, that it might all be a dream?" One of the reasons – one of the few, why she had left was the fear of relying on the Fosters too much, and the need to prove there was a liveable alternative – two Paradises! "Aren't you scared?" She modified her question when the first did not produce a quick response.

"No."

"OK. That's cool."

to be continued.


	4. Chapter 4

4

Take me now, baby here as I am.

Hold me close, try and understand.

Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe.

Love is the banquet on which we feed.

(Patti Smith)

Desire was like a drug.

Stef and Lena had forbade Callie and Brandon from having sex. They had not forbidden love - how could you forbid that? You might as well forbid growing up or eating chocolate, and that wasn't going to happen! Callie didn't love Brandon, or Wyatt. However, what about desire, love's evil twin? Callie could still desire the two boys.

She knew she and Brandon would have to sate their desire at some point. The alternative was to quiver with pent-up passion whenever they stood next to each other; the static electricity tingling to the point of unbearable. Like living in a period drama.

Desire was like a drug, but you could always go cold turkey.

Curiosity, however, was excruciating

Callie lay alongside Brandon, her head resting on his chest, his right arm wrapped round her in a protective way – whether for her benefit or his own, she couldn't tell. It felt good whichever. She also felt exhilarated for what she had just done – the one forbidden act in this Paradise of a home.

Everyone else was out. Did Stef and Lena do this when the house was empty of their children? Of course they did – otherwise when else?

It must be frustrating being parents, Callie thought. They had lived through all the trials and tribulations their children were experiencing, had made the very same mistakes, and had a multitude of advice they wanted to instil, yet were treated like Cassandra when they tried to warn them of the pitfalls that lay ahead. These days children were more likely to seek advice from an App than an adult.

Callie, however, felt different. She didn't possess a smartphone and had rarely had the opportunity to 'Follow' and 'Like'. As such, she felt less risk-averse, prided herself as being less shallow and always observed people in the flesh. Having no Facebook profile meant she only had one persona; the one she projected in person – even if that had its own hidden depths. Not for her a manicured profile; the manufactured resume; the CV of exaggerated life highlights.

Life not as fairy tale.

Real life was much better than URL.

She knew a relationship with Brandon was unrealistic and naïve, even if the forbidden aspect was unreasonable and unfair. That was the big difference between her and Brandon. Anyway, besides the whole foster-brother issue, Jude liked him. If Brandon ever broke her heart her brother's would also break.

She certainly had no intention of living somewhere else to relieve the pressure, or to enable meeting up with Brandon secretly. No, she had spent years living on the other side. The grass was greener here.

The irony of having Brandon lying naked next to her whilst she had such thoughts was not lost on her.

The day was still young and could still end well or badly.

"This can be a one-time-only thing," she voiced calmly. She sat up and looked down at her desire made manifest. "We both wanted to do this, needed to, but it can't happen again."

Brandon's mood changed. "Needed, wanted?" He queried dangerously. "Did we just respond to our urges? Was there no feeling behind it?"

"Yes and...of course there was."

"Were we just playing at being grown-ups?"

Callie didn't mean to be cruel and it had certainly not just been desire and curiosity sex. Right now, she would have dearly loved to indulge in a more romantic version of pillow talk, but she wanted him to see reason. "You love and respect your moms too much to deceive them repeatedly and …..and my need to not disappoint them is...scary. And I know you appreciate the risk to Jude's well-being."

"I wanted to be special for you, after...after everything you have endured in your life, after..."

Callie guessed where he was heading. "You can say his name," she gifted.

"After what Liam did to you..."

Callie wanted to rejoice at the concern he was showing. "My dear, sweet White Knight," she cradled his face. "You have been special to me since that night you helped me rescue Jude." She looked intently at her brother's saviour, tears forming. "What you did that night was...wonderful. I have no words...nothing that I can do or say that will ever express fully my gratitude."

"Sssh," Brandon placed a hand over her lips. "I would do the same again without hesitation."

"That makes it all the more special."

They both lay back down alongside each other.

"You were stunningly beautiful in that red dress you wore to Mariana's party," Brandon said after a minute of silence between them.

"Damn right I was," Callie smiled in total agreement.

"You're beautiful now."

Callie laughed. It was an obvious line, but she loved it. "I'm naked, Brandon, so I should hope so."

The necessary truth had to be broached again, however. Callie broke the reverie. "I meant what I said before...This day must be a one-time occurrence only."

"It doesn't have to be."

"Yes it does." She sat up and looked down at him again. "I took a huge risk to Jude's future, his happiness today...willingly admittedly, but a risk all the same. It mustn't happen again."

Brandon sat up and rested one hand on Callie's arm. "What about your own happiness? Must you always come second?"

"Oh, Brandon, you're so much your mother's son right now. I'm not playing a martyr. At worst I am just postponing my life. When Jude is old enough to look after himself, to enter the world and all its wonders, I will still have my whole life ahead of me. Believe me, I fully intend to live it to the full – see Paris and swim with dolphins. Right now I am content to concentrate on Jude's happiness. Seeing him happy is like bathing in the sun."

They both lay back down on the bed.

"Um, Brandon," Callie broke the silence after a few minutes.

"Uh huh."

"Have you ever been skinny dipping?"

x-x-x-x-x-

Having now slept with Brandon and after her time with Wyatt, Callie could compare, contrast and evaluate, if not actually decide. She was shocked and interested in how much they both reflected their upbringing and life-outlooks in their love-making.

Wyatt's longing to belong had made him eager and physical, almost possessive. The rest of the world hadn't existed beyond the motel room door, or it could be ending and they were indulging in one last act of defiance. She had a deep affection for Wyatt. Her beautiful Original Sin.

Brandon's perfect suburban upbringing, untarnished by insecurities, had made him slower and more passionate and exploratory. Callie would never be able to watch his fingers play across a keyboard with detachment again!

She doubted her one-time-only declaration would hold, and somehow knew she would visit the motel again. The sensations were too numerous and invigorating to abstain. It was all too new. It felt too much like falling, being pole-axed, transported, bowled over, knocked for seven – odd, she thought, how so many similes for love were physical and playground-violent.

She was too smitten.

She wanted and would get all the fun, none of the shame. If it was more like an episode of Girls than 50 Shades at times, at least she had something to work towards!

How she longed to be able to re-visit specific moments of her life and behave differently: so she could confront the bullies; to say 'no'; to say 'please don't speak to me like that'; to pick up the young girl she had been and shake her, and shake her. But yearning for something we can never have can be emotionally crucifying. At the time, she had done the best she could.

And, anyway, it was long ago and faraway.

Instead, she would take back some of the power the world had hoarded; shift the parameters of what she could and couldn't do. She knew she was too young to be so resolute – sixteen was still a child's age however much her peers may like to think otherwise. But building a strong foundation now would ensure dividends later when adulthood tried to crap on her.

She may have had times in her life where the worst human behaviour had brought her close to despair, but she had never stopped believing in its greatest potential. A dividend personified by Brandon accompanying her on that bus journey months earlier to check on her brother; by Wyatt, who had let her travel with him despite knowing true love was not the reason, and who had brought her home again without question; by two women who simultaneously made her feel part of a family again and a rabbit caught in headlights.

She had seen heroes fall from Lance Armstrong heights. But even he raised millions for cancer, so she could forgive like the best Christian.

She wasn't trying to create a new persona like Miley Cyrus. Nor was she emerging from an emotional breakdown like Britney, or struggling to climb out of a hole like Lindsey. She was simply self-orchestrating her dream.

She would still keep her wits about her because the world wasn't made of rainbows, and not everyone wished only kindness.

But, she felt quite in awe of the cards life had dealt her.

"_Wake me up when it's all over, then hear me roar!"_

I tried carrying the weight of the world,

but I only have two hands.

I hope I get the choice to travel the world,

but I don't have any plans.

I wish that I could stay forever this young.

Not afraid to close my eyes.

Life's a game made for everyone

and love is a prize

(Avicci)

**Thank you, everyone for reading and reviewing this story. It has been a pleasure as always.**

**Please review. **

**Be happy. Regards CC.**


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